


Baby Steps

by moodiful819



Series: Tabula Rasa [3]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Angst and Feels, Domestic, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2016-09-26
Packaged: 2018-08-17 09:47:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8139577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moodiful819/pseuds/moodiful819
Summary: Dimly, she realized he had her—their bottle of milk in his hands, but he had yet to put it in his basket—something he seemed to be aware of too. [Kakasaku]





	

Eggs. Milk. Butter.

Those were the three items on her grocery list when she had set out that morning.

It was such a simple thing. So simple, it would’ve been home in any nursery rhyme—but the list had more practical applications. Ino’s birthday was coming up, and as per the tradition, it meant another one of her famous birthday bakes. Sakura hated baking—she was horrible at it and nearly everything she’d ever stuck into an oven had turned into a soggy, misshapen mess—but this cake was the only thing she could ever make. It wasn’t anything fancy—just a simple white cake with whipped cream and fruit—but everyone seemed to adore it and even she couldn’t deny that it was a pretty good cake.

Though granted, you would’ve never guessed that was what she was going to make by looking at her basket. 

Idly, Sakura scanned the contents of the orange shopping basket in her hands. There were the eggs—of course—and the unsalted butter she’d just plucked from the refrigerated shelf, but there was also ground pork, a head of cabbage, a box of tea, some dried harusame noodles, and some junk food that definitely wasn’t on the list. The cream, she would get in a bit. As for the fruit, she knew she could get them cheaper and better from a small store closer to her home.

But first the milk…

Frowning slightly as she tried to recall the kind of milk she usually used in the recipe–whole…skim…2%…1%…fat-free?—she reached for a container on the lowest shelf, not noticing that another person was doing the same.

“Oh, sorry!” she said, her hand still frozen in mid-air. They had both retrieved their hands after touching, and while she had apologized, it had been more out of reflex than anything else. She had no idea who she was apologizing to—especially when they were wearing the standard-issue jounin uniform—and glanced up at the stranger, feeling her expression fall a little when she found herself staring at a familiar masked face.

“Kakashi…”

The name had fallen from her lips without her noticing, too focused instead on how widely her gaze sat frozen upon him and how her spine seemed to be shriveling up into her body like a dry emptied husk. It had been nearly two months since she had last seen him. During that first week, Sakura had immediately removed her name from his case and requested all her rounds be scheduled away from his ward. She didn’t dare go anywhere near his room, but she’d heard from a nurse recently that he’d been discharged a few weeks ago with a clean bill of physical health. Dimly, she realized he had her—their bottle of milk in his hands, but he had yet to put it in his basket—something he seemed to be aware of too.

They had been too quiet. Under the hum of the dairy case, they stood looking at each other not saying anything. She didn’t know how long they’d been there—she hadn’t even felt the time pass by—but people were staring now, looking at them with questioning gazes and annoyed glances, and yet they remained.

The silence was oppressive, lingering over them like a thick, heavy fog. It seeped into her skin, worming its way into her lungs. She wanted to run, and wondered in the back of her mind how easily she could get away with it. A younger her would’ve said that turning tail now would be sheer cowardice—that she had to face her battles head-on—but she was older now and knew the importance of choosing her battles.

Especially ones that she knew she would lose.

The deliberation was a feint. She’d always known that if she ever ran into him on the street, she would immediately turn around and head the other way. But something in her sabotaged her, kept her feet frozen and her heart beating and lungs breathing when all she wanted to do was run away and curl up into nothingness. It was painful being there, and she could feel the plague of questions twisting in the hollows of her throat. When she had heard that he had been released, she had expected him to come by and at least retrieve his things, but a week had gone by before she’d heard from Genma that he had moved into a single-occupancy apartment across town. He never reclaimed his things, but then again, he probably didn’t think of them as his. Rather, they were the relics of another person, another life that he was not a part of and would never be again.

_Like her._

The thought was like a knife to the gut, and she sharply inhaled at the wave of pain that suddenly assailed her. She’d made her point in being brave, but enough was enough. Time to go home.  

“I’m…glad to see you were alright after you…jumped from the window.” His voice was quiet, brows knitting as he struggled to piece the words together. Faintly, she recalled the clatter of plastic and metal behind her as she fell, and while she tried to catch them, his eyes would not meet hers, glancing instead at the side of the aisle and the area by her feet. Again, she recognized the lanky, lethargic air of her youth. He was aiming at nonchalance, she recognized, but his shoulders were too rigid, the grip on his basket too tight, and the last part of his speech had been too mumbled to be anything but nervous.

But he was trying, and she appreciated that.

“I’m the same rank as you,” she replied. “There was never anything to worry about.”

It was meant to be reassuring, but the small, petty side of her could not help relishing as Kakashi openly winced at the comment, a glaring reminder of things he should have known, but didn’t.

“I should get going,” she said politely after a long pause. “Lots of things to do today!”

It was a flat-out lie. She had nothing to do today, but she figured she would do them both the mercy of ending this little charade.

Avoiding his gaze, she nimbly picked up the first bottle of milk to touch her hands and placed it in the basket. It rattled against the bright orange plastic sides and the sound seemed to jar him out of whatever reverie he was in because his eyes suddenly snapped to attention.

“Ah, I see,” he replied with equal politeness. “Well then, goodbye…Ah…”

Kakashi once again paused mid-sentence. In her mind’s eye, the stumble made a picture in her head. She could see his pliable tongue stall in his masked mouth, see the hard swallow in his throat, and feel the catch in his rhythm like a runner tripping on a track, the gravel stinging and grinding into the soft flesh of her cheek.

She smiled.

“It’s ‘Haruno’ now,” she supplied helpfully, and tried to push away the taste of defeat in her mouth.

He took her response in slowly, and she watched the subtle raise of his brows as his eyes widened with surprise. “O-oh,” he said, as if still processing the information. “But I thought…”

Following the path of his finger, Sakura flushed red and hastily covered her ring with her other hand, and Kakashi realized he’d made a mistake.

“I…I haven’t had the heart to take it off y-yet,” she said. She tried to stay calm, tried to affect the poise and grace that had gotten her through so many difficult diplomatic meetings, but there had been a tremor in her jaw and a warble in her voice. She wanted to explain it away—tell him that she had something in her throat or allergies or something—he no longer knew her. She could say whatever she wanted about herself now—but another part of her wished she had just never worn it this morning in the first place. She knew there was a chance that she would run into him today, but she had also hoped he just wouldn’t notice. But they were shinobi and attention to detail was everything, including rings and fingers, and she was getting angry and frustrated—at both herself and him—and the jumble got larger and tighter in her head until suddenly… it was completely blank. Suddenly Sakura didn’t know what to say or what to do, and her chest felt tight, and suddenly it was the hospital room all over again.

Pressing the back of her wrist against her mouth, she hid the quivering line of her lips as water filled her view.

“Excuse me,” she said and did not wait for a response as she hastily swung into the next aisle. She could feel the concerned looks of the staff and other patrons crawl over her skin, but she ignored them for the sob burning a hole through her chest and prayed that he would have the decency not to follow into her aisle anytime soon.

Head pressed against a cereal box, she listened as his footsteps carried him towards the other end of the store before sighing in relief and covering her tired face with her hand, softly repeating the mantra that had guided her out of her home that morning.

“Baby steps, Sakura. Baby steps.”


End file.
